Grey Skies | Silver Linings

Waking up this morning was surreal. But not because of the occasion today. The buzzing of my phone didn't wake me up when text messages started coming in. Nor did the beeps and blinks of my other phone after every Wall post. My alarm clock didn't even work. Rather, the first thing I heard this morning was the sound of the heavy rain pouring down over our home. It would get louder, and get softer, and then it would be even louder than it was the first time. And all I could think about was, damn it,  not again. Fearing I wasn't going to make it on time, I considered making a phone call to the office. I have my laptop with me at home, I would say, and I can't leave the house. But since I already have my corporate attire on, and the rains started to die down a little bit, I figured I should at least try to get there. Besides, if the weather really was that bad, I could just turn around and then make the call. So, when the coast was clear, I left home for work. Sudden

The weather today and a fond memory helped me remember something I promised to write about, and something I would like to share with those reading this now. Almost one year ago, I attended the World Youth Day Overnight Vigil at the Ateneo de Manila University. It was a true blessing to be part of such a meaningful and memorable experience, shared with friends and thousands of other young men and women from all over the Philippines, and it is something I will always treasure. I don't know why it took me a year to say it outright, and my sentiments are probably long overdue. But looking back on it now, I can honestly say that I would've missed out on a whole lot had I not been there. It wasn't Madrid, but it was the next best thing. And I'm happy I was there. There are plenty of reasons why this experience is unforgettable. I could go on and on about hearing the Pope speak live, the presence of both then-current Archbishop Rosales and then-future-Archbishop Tagle

(May 4, 2012) Last night has been an eye-opener on so many different levels. Perhaps I've only been mildly aware, if not in complete denial, of the things that were said to me. Of things I didn't consider to be "problem areas" but others have noticed. Only after these things have been brought to my attention did I realize that denial can only take a person so far, and it will not make things go away. I feel as if I am a struggling alcoholic, and I've drowned myself with the liquor that is my false notion of contentment. I will be more than relieved to get myself out from that rut. And so begins the Twelve-Step Program to my recovery, the first of which is Admission. That I was not in control of my faculties, and that I was powerless over my compulsion to think that what I've been doing seems to be working. I admit. Something is terribly, terribly wrong. With my projection towards others. With my outlook and perspective in life. With my wants and needs.

"...so better things can fall together." I've been hearing this line for the longest time already, though I do not now recall where it came from. ( If anyone can refresh my memory, please do. Apparently this quote is from Marilyn Monroe.) And it strikes me every single time I hear it being said, or see it being written. Yesterday, I stumbled upon my friend's Multiply again and saw a post which contained a part of our chat from a couple of months back. My friend brings up this line and I told her I agreed, except for the latter part -- I guess that's the part that really gets to me. Then she says, "There's no guarantee kase ." Exactly, I said. Exactly. "Good things fall apart." I get that. Temporary as we are, nothing ever really lasts forever in this life. Not even the intangibles. And I'm pretty sure every one of us, if not most of us, can attest to that. It's the latter that doesn't make sen